Patrick sought out Liss before breakfast on Friday morning. He tapped on her door, not so sure how this worked. She had been in his room at Halloween but he'd been in very few bedrooms, let alone one belonging to a girl.
"It's Patrick," he called through the door, not wanting to surprise her. She opened it a moment later, dressed – though only in jeans and a spaghetti-strap undershirt. The room behind her was extraordinarily messy, with clothes and a lot of less identifiable things liberally scattered across every available surface. She hadn't brushed her hair yet.
"What?"
"Um." Suddenly this was unexpectedly intimate, Alex's words about temptation rising unbidden to the front of his mind.
Liss didn't notice his discomfort at first, she had turned away to grab all the things from a chair and throw them onto the bed, adding to the mess there. Patrick was sure he glimpsed discarded underwear which only increased his unease. Liss turned to him as he continued to hesitate at the door.
"Well, come in! You knocked, after all."
Patrick left the doorway open and picked his way to the chair she had cleared. He was surprised at how uncomfortable he felt at first, although starting to override that feeling now was his usual curiosity. Patrick wasn't unfamiliar with seeing women in various stages of undress – backstage during costume changes when they shared a venue with other acts – but this was something else, the lack of a professional context making all the difference in the world. His eyes roamed over everything as his discomfort waned and his curiosity increased. He began to relax and almost unthinkingly started to hot-read the room and its contents.
"Is it always this messy?" Stuff made her feel secure, Patrick noted, some stuff anyway, the personal things like photos and ornaments. The mess both exposed and concealed the personal, allowing it to be on display to her while hiding its significance from the eyes of others – most others – behind the ephemera of her everyday life.
"You sound like Sally." He glanced at Liss, who was clearly amused by his uncharacteristic reticence. She started pulling a blouse on. The familiar activity helped calm him, he'd seen women get dressed a thousand times. "You haven't been in many girls' bedrooms, then?" Liss asked, grinning.
Patrick was rapidly recovering his composure. "I haven't been in many bedrooms, period," he admitted. "I lived in a trailer all my life. My aunt used to live with us but she moved out when she got married." When he had still been a child, he now realized. Lily's presence in the trailer had been a very feminine one but so familiar to Patrick it had barely registered as such on his radar. Entering Liss's room had been a jarringly visceral experience.
"So what did you want?"
"I wanted to ask you something." He stretched his legs out, equilibrium nearly restored.
"Well, duh!" Liss rolled her eyes as she finished dressing and picked up her hair brush.
"It's Friday."
"Thanks, Einstein, I did know that. We get our grades today."
"Oh?" This managed to distract him. "How does that work?"
"They hand out report cards in home room, you bring it home for Sally to sign, then you take the return slip back on Monday."
"Cool," Patrick nodded. "Er, our deal finishes today."
"What deal?"
"We agreed I could have lunch with you and your friends this week because I didn't know anyone else. Well, it's the end of the week. I made some friends. Do you want me to sit somewhere else now at lunch time?"
"Oh!" Liss turned to look at Patrick, disappointment written on her face. "Don't you want to sit with us any more?"
"Yes I do, but you don't have to let me if you don't want."
"No, I like you guys. You and Ashley, anyway. Andy Williams is okay, a bit quiet. What's the name of that other guy?"
"Chi Tran. He's in care too, group home on the other side of town."
Liss seemed unimpressed. "Is he a bully? Ash and Andy are scared of him."
"Nah. He's just got some issues, that's all."
"We all got issues, Patrick." Oh, that was revealing, that would explain why Liss seemed so spiky all the time. Why cut anyone slack when it felt like no-one in the world did the same for you?
"And wouldn't the world be a better place if we all sympathized more because of it?" Patrick shot back in saccharine tones. Bullseye.
"Ha, sympathize? You? For no reason? When hell freezes over, Don Patrick! You got your consigliere and your moll, picking up a bodyguard now, are you?"
Although this also came uncomfortably close to home Patrick swallowed the first words that came to mind as he looked around her room at the sad, gimcrack relics of Liss's happy childhood, carefully hidden in plain sight, and at the fragility that she tried to conceal in the same way behind her defiant expression. Brothers and sisters fight, he told himself, doing his best to ignore his earlier decidedly un-brotherly thoughts. Deflection, not confrontation.
"That's a bit harsh, Liss," he began mildly. "I thought you said you liked me and Ashley. I don't think anyone could call Andy a mafioso. And what would that make you and Julia and your other friends?"
He caught Liss's eye, waggled his eyebrows and started whistling the theme from 'The Godfather'. Liss burst out laughing and Patrick joined her.
Ashley looked upset when Patrick got to home room. Patrick waved a quick 'hi' to Tran then perched on his usual spot at Ashley's desk.
"Hey, what happened?" he asked gently, stroking her hair out of her eyes, though he was sure he knew.
"I argued with Mom."
Patrick didn't ask why they fought. "Is it just you and your mom at home?"
"Yeah. Mom got divorced when I was little. I go stay with my dad in the summer, he lives near Seattle. He remarried, I have two little half-sisters up there but down here it's just Mom and me."
"It can be intense when there's just two of you. There's just me and Dad, too. Do you want to talk about it?"
Ashley shook her head, looking miserable but determined.
"Then is it okay to talk about tonight instead?"
"Tonight?"
Patrick's grin was equal parts mischief and anticipation, his eyes twinkling. "Will you be able to come out with me tonight, or did she ground you?"
"Oh! Um, I'm not grounded…"
"Do you have a bicycle?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Can you meet me at the corner of Forth-ninth and Franklin at seven tonight?"
"Maybe. What do you have in mind?"
"A surprise," Patrick smiled. "A nice surprise. What time do you need to be back?"
It was clear Ashley's was curious. "It used to be nine up in Shasta County when I went round to see my friends. I haven't been out at night since we moved here. Um, my mom's not going to let me go out if she doesn't know where I'm going."
"Can't you say you're going out with me?"
Ashley looked away. "Umm." That confirmed to Patrick Ashley's mom had finally told her they had to split up.
"Okay, she knows I live at the Brodies. Would she let you visit a friend who's from the big trailer park at Stoney Ridge?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Then tell her that friend invited you over tonight. That's true, it's where I live when I'm not in care, I'm from there, you won't be lying to your mom if you say that. She can drop you at the main gate in her car at seven and pick you up again at nine. I'll have someone called 'Annie' meet you at the entrance so you can tell your mom that's who'll be waiting for you."
"Okay…"
Mrs. Bolton arrived so Patrick hurriedly whispered, "We'll be outdoors, dress warm. Jeans and a sweater, comfy shoes, a jacket," then moved swiftly to his own desk. Andy had arrived while Patrick was with Ashley but he didn't say anything as they both sat, instead he glanced nervously in Patrick's direction.
Bolton handed out everyone's report cards after registration. Patrick's classes were all 'incomplete' but some of his teachers had bothered to fill in marks for Attitude and Social Maturity. Tremblay was the most damning, Meyer and Novak surprisingly complimentary, Smith almost gushing. Ashley seemed pleased with her grades. Tran put his report card straight into his bag without bothering to look at it. Andy looked at his grades, carefully put his report card away but still cast nervous glances at Patrick. He hadn't expected Andy to be anxious about his grades and it looked like he was right, this was something personal. The noise rose in the classroom as everyone started chatting and Andy turned to Patrick.
"Hey man, can you come over for dinner on Saturday? Uh, mom and dad said I should invite you over now we're friends." Andy's trepidation grew as he said this.
"Sorry, Andy, I'm going to a wedding this weekend. How about I come back with you after school one day next week instead?"
Patrick smiled as his mind raced. It might not have anything to do with Alex. Andy's dad had made him look for new friends after he suspected his old ones of bullying. Andy would have told him about making friends with a new kid from his old school. His dad might just want to check out his new friend. It sounded weak even as he thought it.
Andy looked rather relieved. "No problem, Patrick. Uh, how about Monday?"
Andy would have told his parents about that friend's detentions and calling his lawyer, although if that was the problem surely they would have told him to invite Patrick over before last night. Perhaps Andy mentioned how his old friend Rico behaved towards Patrick yesterday in industrial arts… That seemed the weakest possibility of all. The bell rang for classes as he dismissed all the other reasons. It had to be the article from yesterday's newspaper.
On the way to French class Patrick continued, "I need to check with the Brodies but I think it'll be okay for me to come over on Monday." Patrick paused, then he added innocently, "Do your parents get the Carson Springs Tribune, Andy?"
Andy started, his expression hangdog. It was all the confirmation Patrick needed.
"Did they ask you last night what my full name is?"
"Mom asked me to tell her your surname again when I got home, then she asked why you were in care and said she was worried I jumped out of the frying pan into the fire," Andy confirmed, "but Dad said they should meet you, not jump to any conclusions about you or your family. He was really impressed about you calling your lawyer on Wednesday. He doesn't like Mr. Goole."
"Hey, at least they want to meet me, they didn't just tell you to get different friends again," Patrick voiced his thought. Ashley's mom didn't think him worth the benefit of any such niceties. Andy's dad had liked that he called Taylor into school? That gave Patrick confidence he could win him over when they met.
Tremblay carefully ignored Patrick throughout her class, though he was pleased to note she was less sarcastic and more helpful to the other kids today. He in turn stayed silent and was one of the first to leave the classroom at the end, although he waited outside and caught her as she left. The shock of seeing him almost erased her habitual expression of distaste as he approached.
"What do you want?" No social pleasantries here, but at least she was speaking English.
"Can we come to an understanding?" He held up his hall pass from Jepson, let Tremblay read it. "I'll do your homework but I'll only attend classes when there's a test. In return you tell me about the homework and tests, and you mark me as present."
To his surprise Tremblay shook her head. "I need to see you in every lesson. They check class records against the home room registration each week. I could get in trouble if they don't add up."
"Then how about this? I'll meet you out here before each class. I can give you any completed work, you can give me the next homework and I only come in if there's a test. Otherwise I go to the library and you mark me present."
Tremblay looked at him, her habitual sour expression deepening. Her desire to remove him from her class was clearly warring with her reluctance to see him rewarded in any way. Patrick decided to tip the scales.
"I was very quiet in class today," he began, his eyes not leaving hers. "That's not like me. I like to… engage with my teachers, get the most from my time in class." Tremblay froze, then nodded stiffly. Patrick pulled another note from his bag.
"Sign this."
"What is it?" Tremblay asked, looking wary.
"Insurance," Patrick replied as she read it.
'Patrick Jane is permitted to study in the library instead of attending my _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ class during academic year 1987-88. This permission is not transferable.'
Tremblay paused, considering, then finally wrote 'french' in the space provided and signed at the bottom.
"Here." Tremblay held the signed note out to him, her expression freshly-vinegared.
"Madame," Patrick nodded in acknowledgement as he took it back. He checked it carefully before stowing it away with his hall pass.
Patrick was happy to continue attending art classes. He knew he wasn't fast or talented enough to complete the work without putting in the hours and the subject provided a restful counterpoint to everything else he did. Andy had saved him a seat and had been chatting with Tran before he arrived. Tran played basketball too, apparently, at least in gym class, his size making him useful in the defense positions Andy also usually played. Tran wasn't talented at art but seemed more relaxed in a class which didn't involve reading and writing. Novak had set up some still lifes on each table so Patrick settled down to draw. He still didn't have much to say about basketball but the easy chatter between them soon moved on, winding inconsequentially around a number of topics.
Ashley was waiting for Patrick outside the lunch hall. Andy surprised Patrick by tactfully ending their discussion about movies and taking Tran with him.
"Hey Ashley," Patrick grinned at her.
"Hi Patrick." There was something on her mind. Patrick thought she didn't look unhappy enough for this to be her breaking up with him so he didn't interrupt. "Would you like to buy a sandwich and we can have lunch, um, on the bleachers on the field?"
This clearly had a significance beyond its outdoor location but Patrick couldn't read what it was.
"What happens on the bleachers at lunch time?" he asked, smiling. Ashley blushed deeply.
"Well, there's usually lunchtime sports practice on the field and, well, you're allowed to sit on the bleachers…"
Patrick knew Ashley wasn't that much of a sports fan. She was stalling.
"Okay…" he replied, taking her hand and heading over to the sandwich line. "So what else happens there?" he whispered in her ear as he stood close behind her in line, enjoying the unique little wriggle that anything involving her ears elicited in her. She turned around.
"You haven't heard about the bleachers, then?" she stalled again, smiling impishly. Getting to the front of the line interrupted their conversation for a while, then Ashley took Patrick's hand and led him outside. They headed over to the field.
"You still haven't told me why we're out here," Patrick pretended to complain.
"That's because it's a surprise. A nice surprise," she added, repeating his words back to him though she was starting to look more nervous.
They rounded the corner and Patrick finally saw what Ashley had known all along. The front rows did indeed contain kids who were watching or participating in lunchtime sports clubs but the upper tiers of the bleachers were sparsely populated by couples necking. This was the place where kids took their girlfriends to make out at lunchtime.
Patrick turned with a wide grin.
"Ashley Morgan, you minx! This is all part of a cunning plan to seduce me!" He waggled his eyebrows and squeezed her hand, watching her closely. She was blushing deeply again at his words and the nervousness hadn't left her face either. He suspected that she'd liked the romantic idea of sitting on the bleachers and kissing in the sunshine but the sight of a couple of dozen teens fumbling and groping each other had brought her back to reality with a bump.
"You getting cold feet?" When she didn't reply Patrick went on, "It's a lovely surprise, Ashley, but you don't have to do this simply because I'm your boyfriend. I'm happy just eating lunch with you."
"Don't you want to kiss me?"
Patrick put his arms around her and ghosted his lips across hers in response. "Don't have to go up there to do that," he murmured. She still seemed torn by indecision so he asked, "Shall we go sit down?" At her nod he led her up to a clear spot near the top. They sat pressed against each other as they finished their sandwiches.
There was a breeze up here, chilly for so early in November, so when Ashley shivered he slipped out of one sleeve of his jacket and put it round them both, pulling her in closer. She snuggled back against his chest and held his coat in place, creating a cocoon around them. Her hair smelled sweetly of coconut and she felt warm and soft.
"This is nice," Patrick smiled. He closed his eyes for a while, enjoying the cold air on his face, the warmth of Ashley in his arms, the sensation of being so close to her. He felt her tense slightly just before she spoke.
"Patrick?"
"Mmm?"
"Can I ask you something?" Ashley apparently found it less embarrassing to talk to him when she wasn't looking at him.
"Mmm?"
"Have you ever french kissed a girl?"
"Not my first girlfriend," he deflected, thinking how fitting it would have been if he had learned french kissing with Marie-Thérèse from France. Or maybe not, they'd both been very young and at the time he'd enjoyed the experience of being sweethearts, holding hands and exchanging chaste kisses. That's what the crewmen had dubbed them that season, 'the sweethearts of the Midway' – the women anyway. The guys had made enough ribald comments to inure Patrick forever against embarrassment over having a girlfriend. He'd only started kissing open-mouthed last summer, his most recent girlfriends.
He realized he had been basing his 'Ashley's first boyfriend' plan on his own experience of being sweethearts. Ashley was that bit older than he had been, it wasn't really surprising that she would want to go further than that with him, especially if her mom had handed her an ultimatum. Patrick wondered again what Ashley's plan was. If she intended to defy her mom where did that leave him? He didn't like the idea of sneaking around as though he wasn't good enough for her. Deceiving her mom would also make life difficult for him when the inevitable happened and they were found out.
"Have you had a lot of girlfriends?" Ashley continued, bringing his focus back to here and now. She clearly wanted the answer to be 'yes', Ashley wanted a boyfriend with some more experience than her.
"A few," he smiled.
"And you have done french kissing," she persisted.
"Yes."
"What's it like?"
"Very nice," he smiled again, though this wasn't the whole truth. The sensations were delicious; the sense of being out of control of his own body was scary; and he positively hated the way it forced him to acknowledge, if only to himself, that he might not be so very different from Alex after all.
Ashley remained silent but she was still tense, she hadn't finished but she didn't know how to continue.
"Would you like me to show you?" Patrick was murmuring in her ear again, because he could, because her half-involuntary wriggle felt exquisite when they were wrapped together like this. This place would be safe, the cool breeze would help keep him grounded, he could stay in control of himself if they did start necking up here. Patrick loved showing off and he'd learned quite a lot about kissing already. He was sure he could set a high enough standard to give Ashley's subsequent boyfriends a run for their money.
Ashley still didn't speak but she nodded. Patrick wanted to see her expression so he unwrapped his jacket and helped her into his lap. Ashley seemed unsure what to do with her hands now so he guided them around his waist before wrapping the coat around them both again, this time his hands held it closed against the chill coming from the distant Sierra Nevada.
"Mmm, this is even better," Patrick murmured and Ashley giggled quietly. She was looking nervous again but didn't look uncertain. He snuggled closer, smiled into her eyes then kissed her, only a little deeper than he had so far, briefly running the tip of his tongue along the line of her closed lips before pulling back.
"You have to say if it feels more 'eww' than 'mmm', okay?" he murmured, remembering the reaction of one of his summer girlfriends.
"Mmm," Ashley replied, smiling and relaxing into him. Patrick laughed at her joke and kissed her again: this time, to Patrick's delight, she kissed him back.
Fairey wanted Patrick to stay in her social studies class but wasn't confident enough to force the issue so reluctantly signed Patrick's 'insurance'. Portman was expecting Patrick would pass the test to move up a grade next week, but eventually Patrick persuaded her that, in the unlikely event of him failing, she would be stuck with him for the rest of the year unless she signed his 'insurance' note. By the end of the day Patrick had written permission to get out of french, social sciences and language arts. He was happy to stay in art class, industrial arts, physical education and Smith's math class. That just left science as disputed territory. It was dull but his teacher was neither hostile nor easily intimidated. Three free classes wasn't bad, he thought, and getting out of science without getting a detention would be an amusing challenge with which to enliven the classes in the meantime.
Ashley's mom pulled into the entrance to Stoney Ridge trailer park at five to seven. It was dark, the only illumination beyond the car's headlights was a street light opposite the entrance and a smaller, dimmer light on the outside of an otherwise dark office trailer. A girl was sitting on top of the big open gate, swinging her legs, but she jumped down when the car pulled up.
"Hi Ashley!" the girl called out, waving, as the car door opened.
"Annie?" Ashley called as she opened the car door. Angela waited for Ashley to step out, gave her a quick hug then stuck her head into the car. "Hello ma'am, its nice to meet Ashley's mom. Thanks for letting her come over this evening. Can she stay a little later? There's no school tomorrow! Would you mind if she stays to nine-thirty rather than nine?"
"Please, Mom, can I stay later?" Ashley also pleaded.
"Okay, Ashley, you ambushed me," her mom smiled. "You can stay later. You have to be here at the gate at precisely nine-thirty, though. Don't make me come looking for you!"
"Thanks mom, love you!" Ashley called, then the strange girl closed the door with a thump.
"Wave, then we'll head over once she's out of sight," the girl said as she herself waved at the retreating car.
"Over where?"
"Over to the surprise," said Patrick's voice. Ashley span round and he was there, leaning casually on the gate, grinning at her. He looked at the other girl and said, "Thanks for waiting here with me, Ani," then took Ashley's hand and kissed her cheek. "Hi," he said.
Hi," Ashley replied, feeling a little awkward being kissed in front of the strange girl, someone Patrick knew well, apparently.
"Why did you have to hide?" the other girl asked Patrick.
"Long story. I'll tell you later, okay? Let's go." He tugged gently on Ashley's hand and they started along the path. "Let me tell you a little bit about the surprise," Patrick began. "We don't usually do this kind of thing at this time of year. Usually it happens in April, just before the carnival season starts, but it's a special occasion tomorrow. Some people we know from the carnival got married at the courthouse yesterday and their wedding party's tomorrow. Everyone here's been setting things up for the last week or so. They want to make it special for their big day. Other people have traveled a long way to be here so there's showing off, too, I guess. There's always a bit of showing off when showbiz folk get together."
"Ha, you mean a lot of showing off when we get together," Angela chipped in.
"Showbiz?" Ashley asked, confused.
Patrick didn't answer. Instead he said, "Now close your eyes for the last twenty steps. I'll make sure you don't stumble." Patrick took her other hand, so both of hers were in his, then took a half-step towards her with a smile, his eyes shining. "You can trust me. It's a nice surprise. Close your eyes." Ashley finally complied, half-expecting Patrick to give her a kiss but instead he walked her forward, slowly, guiding her carefully as the path started climbing steeply. They stopped and Ashley felt Patrick let go of one hand and move to the side.
"Now you can open them," he whispered.
They had climbed to the top of the ridge where the ground leveled off and the driveway split into a T-junction. Trailer plots stretched out into the blackness to the left. In front of them a path had been picked out over the rough ground in white carnival lights, leading through the darkness towards a floodlit area containing some carnival rides, stalls and picnic tables. A big tent, decorated with hundreds of multi colored lights, stood at the back. Colored lights had been strung between the rides as well and formed a canopy over what looked like a dance floor in the middle. The rides themselves had their own colored bulbs, rippling and flashing in waves or more complex patterns. The overall effect should have seemed gaudy but was instead magical.
"Oh..." Ashley breathed.
"Yeah." Patrick had been watching Ashley's face during the big reveal and was now smiling, looking over the mini-carnival area with deep affection. He truly loved this, never tired of the sight of the carnival all lit up in the dark, when the frayed edges and patches and hard work were invisible and all that was left was the beautiful illusion.
After several long minutes drinking it all in Patrick tugged gently at Ashley's hand and led her down towards the carnival along the path of lights. Angela had disappeared.
"It's not for us, of course," Patrick began. "It's all for Katy Barsocky – Katy Turner as she is now – and her new husband Mick, for their party tomorrow. Her dad's chief sparks for one of the carnivals that spend winters here, that means he's the guy who sorts out power for the carnival, runs the generators. He set up all the power and the lights here to give her something special for her big day. Some of our neighbors from the carnival set up their rides or lent the tent or they're helping with the catering or the music." They had reached the edge of the floodlit area now.
"We're here because it's test night," Patrick continued. "See, they have to set everything up and run safety checks on the machines before they let people ride them. They have safety checks at every fairground, too, but it's busy and the ride owners are anxious to get the local safety certificates so they can start earning money. The first test day is much more relaxed because it happens here at Stoney Ridge, after they've been working on the machines over winter, and they let us kids be the first to use the rides after testing. I mean, mostly you're hanging round while the machines run empty or with dead weights, big sandbags in the places people sit, you can see them there on that ghost train car. But when they're sure everything's working okay they let us ride for free. It's kind of traditional for the Ruskins. During the season you can get pretty sick of rides but at the beginning, after the winter break, all the kids want to be the first to try them on test day. Test night, in this case. Do you like carnival rides?"
"I love them. I love the carnival." Ashley turned to Patrick, beaming. "This is beautiful, it's a beautiful way to do a wedding. We get to go on the rides too?"
Patrick smiled affectionately back, thinking that Ashley's childish excitement was adorable. "Probably not all of them but we should get a few free turns tonight before your mom comes back for you."
"Thank you for bringing me here, Patrick." Ashley was nearly whispering, her eyes never leaving the scene in front of her as she spoke, Patrick could see the colored lights reflected in them.
"I'm glad you like it," he murmured. They had reached the dance floor area now. He led her off to one side, where a couple of empty drinks crates had been abandoned at the edge. He upended them then disappeared for a few moments, returning with a heavy sandbag that he laid across the top.
"We'll be out of the way if we sit here. There isn't much left to do but it isn't safe to be wandering about until they've finished. The rides'll be available at different times so we need to hang around." The kids from his gang were here for test night as well though they had been given strict instructions not to crowd him and Ashley. He could see Danny and Ani on the other side of the dance floor chatting with the others.
"Hey, I know you! I heard you was in jail! Good to see you out now, boss-man!" Gimpy Bill was wandering past carrying two of the heavy sand bags over one shoulder as though they weighed nothing.
"I never went to jail, Bill," Patrick smiled back easily. "I just have to stay in town this winter. They arrested dad, not me. He'll be back in April."
"Man, I never thought anyone would catch your dad!"
"Neither did he," Patrick said wryly, which got chuckles from a few of the others who were within hearing distance.
"I'm finishing now so I'm getting a beer, you and your lady friend want one? They're free!"
"No thanks, Bill," Patrick laughed, shaking his head. "We're too young to drink beer. You eat anything today, dude?"
"Yeah, mrs boss did hot food for everyone who worked this gig." Bill gestured to the mini carnival around them with his free hand. "You guys wanna party? Got me some sweet MJ for later."
"Sorry, Bill, the lady has to be home early. Maybe next time."
"Hey, no problem boss-man! Seeya next time!" Bill set off again, casually dropping off the sandbags into a tilt-a-whirl car before he disappeared.
"Did you just call me a lady?" Ashley giggled. Patrick remained unperturbed.
"Of course you're a lady. I wouldn't kiss a little girl like I kiss you," Patrick's grin was roguish as he followed up his words with actions.
"Would that guy really have given me beer?" Ashley whispered.
"There's no harm in Bill but you can't call him responsible. He wasn't offended that we said no." Patrick didn't mention she'd been offered more than just beer, if Ashley hadn't noticed he wasn't going to point it out to her. It took a few moments for him to pinpoint the truly unusual thing about the conversation: Bill had called him 'boss-man'. He'd never done that before.
Patrick and Ashley chatted and kissed as they waited between rides, regularly interrupted by people stopping to exchange a few words with Patrick as they walked past. Patrick would roam the carnival during the season talking to everybody, he knew them all and they knew him but this was as unexpected as Gimpy Bill calling him 'boss-man'. These showmen weren't simply replying to his overtures, they were actively seeking him out, sharing the kind of inconsequential chitchat that they generally reserved for his dad, not him. He'd steeled himself against the usual crude ribaldry from the crewmen. Instead – although nothing short of being struck mute could stop a crewman swearing – they exchanged pleasantries rather than inflicting lewd abuse.
Mostly.
Mid-evening a voice floated through the darkness, "Hey pretty girl, wanna put them sweet fuckin' lips on a real man rather than a fuckin' piss ant?" It was a small mercy that Ashley's back was to Barton as he approached so she couldn't see which part of his anatomy he was indicating. She stiffened anyway and trepidation crept into her eyes.
Patrick was on his feet in an instant and instantly regretted it. Barton was over a foot taller than him and was a nasty piece of work. During the season he was the go-to guy for speed, the drug of choice for the drivers on long-haul jumps. He was on first name terms with the dealers in every town large or small from Ohio to the Pacific. This informal but key role in the workings of the carnival as well as his undoubted skill as a rigger and his unpleasant nature conspired to make him someone no one wanted to cross.
Faking a confidence he didn't feel Patrick didn't retreat. Instead he got up into Barton's face, his chest anyway, before the man could crowd him or move any closer to Ashley.
"The lady's twelve, Barton. You think Pops is gonna tolerate having a chester on his crew?" Patrick spoke quietly and didn't give Barton a chance to respond. This was an ugly accusation, any response would be at least violent, at worst put him in the ER and Patrick had no intention of allowing either. When you've jumped off a cliff you don't have to worry about choosing a direction of travel.
"You hit me or touch her," Patrick continued, "you even think about it and in two minutes you won't have a home or a job and maybe the Barsockys and the Ruskin boys would make sure you didn't have your front teeth either before they finished with you. You really believe any of the Ruskins will hang onto some chester who beat up a carny kid? Beat up a showman? I'm the Boy Wonder, thirty-five percent of Pops' gross from the showies last season came from my act. Billy Ruskin thinks Christmas came early this year because I just signed with him." Patrick had no idea if this was true but it sounded impressive and thirty-five came across as more plausible than a rounded percentage. Now there was uncertainty in Barton's eyes. Barton was useful to the Show but the bottom line was always the bottom line.
"You think you're indispensable? Because you know a few low-lifes and can get hold of a few pills? I can pick a dealer out of a line-up in any town we never been to before with my eyes closed. And I'd know if they were selling me bad shit because I'd see it in their eyes, because I'm the Boy Wonder and seeing that kind of thing is my job and I'm very good at it." This was a pure bluff but there was real fear in Barton's eyes now, the dawning realization he was out of his depth.
"You really think you want to do anything right now other than apologize to the lady and get to wherever the hell you're going? You spoken to Pops or Billy Ruskin recently, or even the bridegroom?" Yeah, Barton had heard Mick Turner's story about the cougar, or whatever wildly exaggerated version was working its way through the carnival rumor mill by now.
Barton swallowed once, twice, eyes darting around the mini carnival. Patrick had kept his voice low, everyone had heard what Barton had called out to Ashley but no one apart from Barton had heard Patrick's little speech. What Patrick had said didn't have to go any further than the two of them. Josh and Pete Barsocky were watching from a dozen yards away, as was an inconveniently large crowd of crewmen, showies and kids waiting for turns on the rides. Patrick was much smaller than him but that was a problem, not an advantage, with so many eyes on them. He needed to take the way out that the boy was offering.
"I got no beef with you, man," Barton managed, very quietly, and Patrick's heart sang.
"Glad to hear it." Oh yeah, Patrick didn't need to fake being sincere about that. "So apologize to the lady and we can shake hands like the good buddies we are." Barton may be scum but Patrick had to give him a way to save face here or they'd have to scrape Patrick up into a bucket before they could take him to the ER.
"Uh, I was just joking, miss," Barton called. "I never meant anything by it." Not an apology so Patrick hoped like hell it at least meant Barton would no longer want to ambush him in some less public place and repay Patrick's threats and insults with his fists. Barton briefly took Patrick's outstretched hand, Patrick had him let go before Barton remembered he had wanted to break the little shit's fingers.
As Barton moved off Patrick sat down next to Ashley to hide the fact that his knees could barely hold him up, putting his arms around her waist to hide the trembling of his hands as the adrenaline backlash kicked in.
"That was really scary," Ashley managed to whisper before Josh and Pete came over.
"Hey, Paddy, you okay? We woulda stepped in but..." Pete's expression said more clearly than words that it would be disrespectful to weigh in unasked on another showman's beef. Being able to deal with such things yourself was part of the job.
"Nah, it's all good, I handled it," Patrick replied with fake nonchalance, deep in thought. He almost wished he was still a little kid in their eyes, he could have shamelessly run and hid behind them if he was still a kid. Although he'd just faced down Barton. Elation started to kick in as the trembling wore off. He'd just faced down Barton! A wide, triumphant grin invaded his features. "You guys all set for tomorrow?"
Patrick only half-listened to the Barsockys as they detailed the minor triumphs and setbacks of the last week, interjecting with polite surprise or suitable chagrin as their story unfolded.
Patrick had lived in Alex's shadow all his life. Even when his dad wasn't physically present, Patrick had been encouraged to believe that while he could claim any affection people showed him as his own, any respect that came his way was as his dad's son. After all Alex was the showman, the boss. Yet here was everybody, even Pete and Josh, undeniably showing respect to him.
Ani had told him that Pops and Billy Ruskin were impressed how Patrick had negotiated the change of circuit for the act. She'd said that Mick Turner wouldn't want to cross him. However it only now struck home to Patrick that he wasn't some thirteen year old carny kid any more, not to the people who mattered. Right here, right now he was a thirteen year old showman. The showies, the crewmen – people he respected – were treating him as an equal. As Pete drew up his own beer crate to sit with him and Ashley, as their easy conversation about the set up of the party was interrupted by turns on rides or the greetings of yet more passing adults, Patrick settled expansively into his new role. It was surprising and flattering and he couldn't get enough of it.
Too soon it was nine-fifteen and time to head back to the trailer park entrance. Patrick and Ashley held hands as they slowly walked back along the path of lights and then followed the driveway towards the streetlights around the gate.
"Ashley," Patrick began, "I like you."
"I like you too, Patrick," Ashley replied, kissing him.
"But I can't be your boyfriend any more."
Ashley opened her mouth but no words came so Patrick continued.
"Your mom told you to break up with me. She already didn't like me, thought you were too young to have a boyfriend and once she reported on my dad for her newspaper she thought it was even worse. She thinks I'm a juvenile delinquent who'll be a bad influence, or hurt you or get you into trouble."
"I'm not too young! You're – you're not a juvenile delinquent." Patrick noticed her hesitation. He was forcibly reminded that he was the closest thing to a delinquent kid Ashley had ever experienced in her sheltered life so far. "I don't want us to break up, Patrick! We could still see each other, I don't have to say anything, Mom doesn't need to know."
Patrick shook his head. After tonight his ego wouldn't tolerate that.
"If you lie to your mom about us that just proves I am a bad influence on you. I can't sneak around like this. It would be agreeing with her that I'm not good enough to be seen with you. And tonight, well, maybe Bill and Barton proved she's a little bit right anyway."
"She shouldn't be able to do this!" Ashley was looking upset but not crying. Patrick stood in front of her, looking into her eyes.
"Ashley, she's your mom. You're only twelve. Of course she can do this."
"I hate this! I hate her!"
"No, please, Ashley, sweetie, don't hate her," Patrick said mildly, brushing her hair out of her eyes and stroking her hand with his thumb. "We had a good time, didn't we? We can still be friends, can't we? We'll talk between classes and have lunch together and hang out at school. I can still show you the city library one day. You're the only person I know who likes libraries as much as I do."
This forced a laugh from Ashley in spite of the tears gathering in her eyes.
"Yes, we had a good time. I had a lovely time, Patrick, and not just tonight."
"There you are then. No regrets. At least this way it ends before I do something stupid and you start hating me."
"I'd never hate you, Patrick."
"You only say that because you haven't seen how stupid I can be."
"Oh I don't know. When you stood up to that horrible man earlier I thought that was pretty stupid. I thought he was going to knock you out and make me kiss him. It was scary." Stupid, not brave, Patrick noted. Ashley had been more scared than impressed. Above everything else that convinced him he wasn't just being selfish, this was the right thing to do.
"I'm sorry you were scared," he managed, and they shared a final, gentle kiss.
There was the sound of a car approaching.
"When your mom gets here what will you say to her?"
"I guess I'll tell her we just split up."
"Still friends?"
"Still friends."
"Will you still keep quiet? About my dad, I mean. This is bad enough. I don't think I could cope if I lost all my friends because of what your mom wrote." Patrick wasn't subtle now as he piled on the pressure. "Please?"
The car had turned into the gateway, Patrick and Ashley were picked out in its headlights, dazzled by the harsh glare.
"Definitely," Ashley said fiercely. "I won't say a word to anyone."
Patrick smiled and drew Ashley into one last affectionate hug, in spite of being watched by the driver.
"Thank you. For everything, Ashley. You're a very special girl, you know that, right?" Ashley nodded tightly but didn't speak.
He waved to her as she got into the car then waited just a few minutes for his night vision to return. He dug out the bike, flipped the lights on and started back to the Brodies house.
Patrick arrived back at Stoney Ridge a little after noon on Saturday. The first place he called was the Ruskin house but Angela and Danny were both already at the wedding party. When he got to the site he could see Angela in the control booth running the big wheel. The bride and groom weren't due to arrive until after sunset but the mini carnival had already started, the bride's parents acting as hosts to the festivities and the afternoon given over to families with kids. With his dad unavailable Patrick would be schmoozing with as many showmen as he could, glomming as much food and drink as he could get away with and generally making his presence felt. If he could stay out of the way of Barton as well the weekend would be perfect.
Patrick sought out Pete, finding him near the bumper cars, holding a beer and gazing wistfully across to the ghost train.
"Hey, Pete!" he called to his friend, surreptitiously following his gaze to the control booth of the ride opposite. It was Billy Ruskin's ride and Samantha Rose was in the booth, wearing a royal blue halter top that made her skin glow and enough chunky gold jewellery to anchor a ship. She was smiling at the kids lined up in front of the ride. Patrick looked back at Pete.
"Hiya Paddy," Pete replied distractedly. Patrick looked over to Samantha again.
"You know she's with Billy Ruskin," he began.
"Yeah, she came in with the West Coast crews last week."
"No, I mean she's Billy Ruskin's girlfriend. I saw them both last Sunday." Though she'd been keen to avoid Billy later on that evening, he thought.
"Aw, man, why are all the best girls always taken?" Pete complained, though when Patrick looked at Pete again he hadn't taken his eyes off her. He contemplated his friend for a moment. Pete was closer to Sam's age than Billy Ruskin, and about as good looking as Billy though Patrick again acknowledged he wasn't a great judge of such things. He wasn't as wealthy but his prospects were good, he was a qualified electrician who could rig and weld with the best of them. He wasn't excessively promiscuous by the admittedly lax standards of the carnival, and had confessed to Patrick one evening that while he envied the guys who could juggle two or three girls at a time he wasn't one of them: he was probably faithful. He wasn't generally insecure about himself, current situation notwithstanding, and he was a bit of a romantic. The guy was certainly capable of love and affection, he might even be able to adore the right girl.
And above everything else it seemed to Patrick that hard-headed, savvy Sam wanted a man who adored her. That was why she objected to Billy Ruskin's drinking, it wasn't the beer so much as the feeling she was being taken for granted. Sam's home life hadn't been unpleasant but she hadn't been happy there. She needed the freedom of the road in the same way some women needed to settle and put down roots, but she was a romantic too, she wanted to share it with someone who loved her.
"They seemed to be on rocky ground on Sunday, though, dude. If I could get her to come over here to meet you, how many of those favors I owe you would it cancel out?"
"All of 'em," Pete breathed, then blinked in surprise realizing what he just said.
"Deal," said Patrick before Pete could take it back, then he grinned at his friend, nodded at his beer and called back, "she doesn't like to see Billy drinking," as he walked across the lot.
"Hello Sam!" Patrick called to her when he reached her booth.
"Well if it isn't the Boy Wonder! You know what I been wondering, Paddy? What exactly you said to Barton yesterday. I never saw someone more deserving brought to heel."
"No ma'am," Patrick replied with more anxiety than he would have liked. "No-one got brought to heel. Barton and me, we just had a friendly chat and shook hands like gentlemen."
"Funny thing, Barton said something similar, and he was lying through his teeth too."
Patrick shook his head. "I'm too young and pretty to want to make an enemy of Barton."
Samantha laughed, Patrick grinned back at her then took advantage of her good humor to move things along.
"How much longer do you have on this gig?" Patrick gestured to the ride.
"Maybe an hour. Maybe longer, it depends."
Interesting. "Would that depend on the whereabouts of a certain young boss of our mutual acquaintance?"
"We split up," Samantha said flatly, all trace of her good humor gone.
Patrick didn't want to push things but felt he had little choice. "Does Billy Ruskin know that?"
"He should." Samantha's tone could freeze water.
Relief crept over Patrick. This was better than he could have hoped. "You ever been to a carny wedding before?" he asked.
"No I haven't," Samantha still wasn't smiling. "Why, Paddy? You offering to be my guide and chaperone? I notice you haven't got that little girl on your arm today."
"You can do better than me," Patrick grinned. "This party, it's Katy's mom and dad who are the hosts. Katy and Mick, they're the guests of honor, they'll get here later, but Katy's little brother Pete is around somewhere. He can give you the ten-cent tour, tell you about everything, explain what'll be happening later. It's kinda his job, a bit like an usher. I'll help you find him and you can have a dutiful escort for the duration, which should also stop anyone else asking awkward questions about you and Billy Ruskin."
Samantha was wary. "Why you doing this, Paddy?"
"Repaying a favor."
That, finally, made Samantha smile. "I get to say at the end of the day if you repaid me or not."
"Of course, ma'am, I wouldn't have it any other way." Patrick's smile widened as he hooked the 'closed' sign across the entrance to the ghost train, waited for the last car to empty then opened the door to the booth and held out his arm to Samantha. The halter top was the upper half of a dress with a very full, though short, skirt. Gold sandals completed the outfit.
"Why Miss Samantha, I declare, you're looking mighty fine today," Patrick drawled in his best Texan accent.
"Thank you, kind gentleman," she shot back, grinning.
"I can see young Pete now, let me take you over and introduce you." Samantha at last took his arm, a little awkwardly because of their difference in height, and he led her the few steps to where Pete was standing. Patrick was pleased to see that Pete had taken the hint, replacing his beer with a can of soda.
"Samantha Rose, may I introduce Pete Barsocky, Katy's little brother," Patrick grinned as they both looked up at Pete, 'little' being the last word either could reasonably use to describe him. "Pete, Samantha's never been to a carnival wedding, I'm sure she'd appreciate a gentleman escort to show her around, explain what's going on today."
"I'd be delighted. Samantha?" Pete held out his arm, playing along with a twinkle in his eye. "Could I start by introducing you to a glass of champagne?"
"Oh I expect you could, Pete. And please call me 'Sam'. Is Paddy always like this..." Patrick heard her start in a more normal voice as he slipped back over to the ghost train. Well, it was up to Pete now.
Patrick re-opened the ride then slipped into the control booth. Yeah, he could operate this ride, and he could see half a dozen reliable people he could call on should something go wrong. He settled back into the seat, smiling brightly at his first customer.
